


The Minutes After

by effulgentcolors



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Post-Coital, Smut, or like post-smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 06:36:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13564899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/effulgentcolors/pseuds/effulgentcolors
Summary: Based on this tumblr prompt: The moments immediately after their first time, what each of them are thinking.(Originally posted on FF.net)





	The Minutes After

Her breathing is labored and there are little black spots before her eyes. And this,  _this_  is by far the best sex she has ever had. Maybe not technique-wise (they had been too worked up for that), maybe not duration-wise (had waited for it too damn long, dreamed about it too often) but somehow (two words float around the dots, twisting and turning and tempting her to reach out and grab them) she has never felt anything like this, anything better than this, ever before.

/

His skin is covered in sweat and his whole body is flushed. And this, _this_  is sure as hell the most glorious coupling he has ever taken part in. Maybe not his most impressive performance (they had been too desperate), maybe not his most elegant one (had been too damn wanton, lost in each other) yet for some reason (two words he can feel burning beneath his skin, itching and taunting, daring him to let his hand wonder and seize them) he has never felt anything like this, anything better than this, ever before.

/

Emma feels herself slowly sink back into her body and steals a glance at Killian. His head is tilted backwards and his brows are slightly furrowed. She instinctively glances down (even though she had felt him pulsing inside of her not five minutes ago) to reassure herself that she wasn't  _that_ selfish. Because she was selfish alright. Wasn't able to help herself once he settled between her thighs, warm hand resting on her lower abdomen and keeping her pressed into the mattress. It only got worse ( _better_ , God, so much _better_ ) once he slid inside her and she forgot everything else, everything but the feel of his body against hers, of his skin beneath her nails, his teeth and lips against her breasts, his cock slamming inside of her and making her feel so full, so complete. Did he feel the same? Was she responsive enough? She can't even remember. Emma gulps, finally beginning to wonder, if this was as earth-shattering for him as it was for her.

/

Killian feels his muscles finally relax and sinks even deeper into the soft mattress. He hears Emma's little moan and his brows bunch together, trying to determine if it is the good kind of moan. His hand twitches at his side with the need to reach out for her (it's a reflex by now, no matter where they are, no matter what they are doing). His thoughts drift back and he remembers holding her to him, nibbling at her inner thigh, sucking, leaving a mark. He can't help asking himself, if she would like that – being marked as his. He remembers sliding into her all at once, biting at her breast (did he leave marks there as well?), gaving her all he is. Was it too much? Did he go too fast? It felt so right at the time. Killian sighs, finally beginning to wonder, if this was as bloody amazing for her as it was for him.

/

She wants to snuggle into his side but he hasn't reached for her. He hasn't done much of anything since he took his weight off her a few minutes ago. She already misses that, misses him, pressed to her from head to toe, his warmth seeping into her. She doesn't know if she should leave. She  _is_  in his room. And hers is just down the hall so she doesn't have much of an excuse to stay. Except that she wants to. Really, really wants to. And that's a first as well. She has never in her life felt like staying after sex, after she had been thoroughly or partially satisfied, not even with Neal. She had, of course, stayed back then but it wasn't so much out of need or want as it was because she thought that was how things were supposed to be. And  _now_. Now she craves him, she wants to feel him against her again, wants to fall asleep in his arms; now, tomorrow, next week, next month… forever.

/

He wants to draw her to him but she hasn't scooted closer. Hasn't really moved at all and he feels like she is on the verge of taking flight and he doesn't bloody know what to do. He wonders if he should ask her to stay, if he should tell her that he wants her to but that she can go, if that's what she needs. And he thinks maybe he should initiate another round of lovemaking but is even more clueless about how that would be received. He hasn't shared a bed with someone in 300 years and even before that he only experienced that sort of intimacy with Milah. And Milah had liked her freedom, liked to be able to move, steal the blankets and roll around. Now he wants to discover  _Emma_ , wants to wake up next to her; tomorrow and the day after that, and the day after that… forever.

/

She sighs and finally turns on her side, eyes trying to capture his and somehow ask for directions because he has always followed her lead and now she needs _him_  to lead, to take her and keep her and never let her go.

/

He inhales sharply when she shifts next to him, muscles tensing at the image of her slipping away, but then he feels her eyes on him and when he looks back she is right there, waiting, patient and open, and asking him not to break her.

/

She feels his arms find their way around her waist and his leg nestles itself between her own and he is warm when she buries her nose in his neck and smells like the sea and that cologne David got him for his birthday and  _god, she loves him_.

/

He feels her melt into him, her hands coming to rest on his chest, her cold feet brushing against his calf and her skin is soft when he kisses her forehead and tastes like coconut and  _them_  and  _heavens above, he loves her_.

/

They wake up even more tangled up than they fell asleep and from that morning (early afternoon really) onward they can never quite discern the smell and taste of each other,  all meshed up together.


End file.
